


A House is Not a Home

by Aki_Aiko



Series: Domestic [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Domestic, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_Aiko/pseuds/Aki_Aiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt returns home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A House is Not a Home

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Domestic.

When the car pulled up to the house, Kurt took a deep breath and reached behind him to grab his overnight bag from the backseat. It had a couple of his favorite outfits from New York in it, a couple of movies, his toothbrush and mouthwash, and everything he needed to complete his nightly moisturizing routine. But when it came time to open the door and step out, he just couldn't do it. His fingers froze on the handle.

Burt was halfway up the drive before he noticed that his son wasn't tagging along beside him. He trotted back up to the car and gently opened the passenger side door. Kurt's eyes flickered up to him. Burt took him gently by the elbow in an attempt to ease him outside.

"You can do this."

Kurt stepped out, one foot at a time, and glanced around. It was very bright outside and there was so much open space. He shivered, hunching in on himself. "Can we go in now?"

They hurried up the drive to the door, which opened as the two of them got to it. Finn grinned and ushered them inside.

"Welcome to Casa de Finn!"

Kurt spared him an irritated glance, then stared around at the living room, a feeling of unease washing over him. Almost all of the old furniture was gone and had been replaced with a few newer pieces, mostly picked out just for Finn, but the place was still all too overwhelmingly familiar. For a moment, Kurt felt like two people stuck in one body; one the child he used to be and the other the man he'd grown into.

Burt's large hand clapped on his shoulder, making him jump. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Y-yeah. It's just...been awhile."

"You wanna go see your room?"

Kurt shook his head. He wasn't ready to open that can of worms just yet. "Not yet. I think I'll just...sit here for a minute."

The couch was stiff and its cushions hard. Kurt sat ramrod straight, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. Finn plopped down beside him and Kurt could swear he actually heard a solid thump coming from the cushion beside him.

"So..." Finn looked at him nervously. "You know you can stay here as long as you want to, right? I mean, it's not like I'd ever kick you out or anything."

Kurt bit his tongue against the many smartass responses he just longed to let loose, but settled for a simple thank you instead. One of the many things his therapist wanted him to work on was his temper. He couldn't just go around snapping at everyone, no matter how much he wanted to scream and yell. A lot of the time, he'd come to realize, it wasn't anger he was even feeling but hurt or fear or shame. The only way he could handle letting it out was by converting all those bad feelings into anger. Feeling anything else was too hard. It _hurt_.

Oh, wait. His dad was talking to him.

"-pulled these out when you first got home, but, well, you were so..." Burt trailed off. He held a few big books in his hands that Kurt dimly remembered as the photo albums that used to sit on one of the living room bookshelves. "How about me and you take a look at them together, what do you say?"

Kurt scooted to the end of the couch to let Burt sit down between him and Finn. The first book were filled with his baby pictures, starting with the very first one taken at the hospital, before the Hummels had taken their baby boy home. Kurt's mother was in a lot of the pictures throughout and he let his hand trace the features of her smiling face as his dad slowly flipped through the pages. It was like he knew Kurt was trying to soak in each image he saw. It'd been a long time since he'd seen his mother's face, in real life and in pictures.

When the doorbell rang, Finn hopped up and ran to answer it. He came back a few minutes later with an older man at his side. Kurt sucked in a breath. Paul Karofsky looked a lot like his son.

"What are you doing here?" Burt quickly stood and moved in front of Kurt, blocking him from view, though Mr. Karofsky had managed to give him a saddened nod before Burt's flannel-clad back filled Kurt's vision.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Mr. Karofsky said. "I wanted to drop something off. For...for Kurt."

"We already got everything from the apartment," Burt said.

Kurt dug his fingers into the material in front of him and tried to remember to breathe. His whole body was shaking, Finn moved around to the back of the couch and put a hand on his back. Kurt wanted to yell at him not to touch him but couldn't get a word out of his rapidly tightening throat.

"Here."

There was a moment of silence as Burt took whatever it was the other man had brought.

"It's not a lot, I know, but Kurt should have it."

"You think handing over a check is going to make what happened to my boy okay?"

Mr. Karofsky sighed. "It's not my money. That's everything that was in David's bank account. It belongs to Kurt more than it ever will to me or my wife. Please. Take it."

"Thank you," Burt acknowledged reluctantly. "Anything else you needed?"

"I did want to apologize for what happened." He craned his head around Burt's large frame. "I know there's nothing I can ever to do to make things right, but if there's ever anything I can do for you, I will do it. Without question."

"Finn," Burt said, reaching back to grip Kurt's shoulder. "Will you show Paul to the door?"

"Who's Paul?"

Kurt let out a wheezing laugh which sounded more like a whistling tea kettle than anything.

"Mr. Karofsky, Finn."

"Oh."

As soon as the two were at the door, Burt turned around and pulled Kurt to him. His hands on Kurt's back were so much more comforting than Finn's had been and after a few minutes of being rocked in those strong arms, Kurt's breathing began to ease until he could finally take clear, clean breaths without having to struggle to pull air into his aching lungs.

"He gave me a check?" he asked once he'd regain his voice.

Burt held out the slip of paper in his hands. "Almost eight thousand dollars."

Kurt stared at it, confused. "But...I know he worked a lot, but I..." He shifted uncomfortably. "I spent a lot of money, Dad. There's no way he had that much left over."

"He have a savings account?"

"I don't, it's not like we had any deep meaningful conversations about finances," Kurt snapped, then winced. "Sorry."

Burt waved the apology away. "It doesn't matter. We can put this away for when you're ready to get back on your feet."

"Okay."

"How about we keep looking at those pictures? I seem to remember there being a real good one of you in a pair of sparkly red birthday heels."

x

"Man, it's going to rain tonight, I just know it," Finn moaned. He was standing at the window, looking out at the rapidly darkening sky.

Kurt glanced over at him from where he waited at the door to the basement. "Did you have plans?"

"No, but I hate when it storms."

"Oh. That's right." Finn used to grumble about the weather back when-wait, where they actually living together then? Kurt rubbed his forehead, trying to remember. His memories were still a jumbled mess. Did he really want to untangle them?

Loud footsteps on the stairs brought him abruptly back to the present. Burt opened the door.

"Okay, so, I got the bed set up. Everything's pretty much the same as you left it, but we used the blankets and stuff for when the kids stayed over at the new house."

"Right." Kurt hesitated at the door, suddenly nervous.

"You need me to go down there with you?"

"No. No, I can do this." Kurt took a deep breath and moved past his father. Burt had left the light on, so it was easy to navigate his way down the stairs and enter his old room.

That strong sense of deja-vu washed over him as he took in the room before him. Everything really was the same. He walked around the room, touching the mementos of his old life with trembling fingers. The closet was still filled with his old clothes. Flipping through some of the hangers revealed designs that, while still fabulous, were now out-dated. The old Kurt wouldn't have been caught dead in all but the most classic pieces.

His Doc Martens sat at the bottom of the closet, tucked away underneath his shirts. Kurt grinned as he picked them up. He'd bought a new pair, the ones on his feet now, but they were different than these, with zippers up the sides the only adornment about them.

He pulled off his new boots to tug on his old ones, then went to his desk where little bottles were lined up on his vanity. His iPod sat on a charger up against the mirror where he'd left it. Kurt smiled as he reached out to pick it up. His dad had probably put it on the charger for him. He set it up to play on the stereo and hit play.

His heart jumped into a rapid beat as soon as the first Lady Gaga song filled the room. It was too much, too soon. He couldn't listen to that here, not now. The iPod clattered to the floor when he tried to turn it off with fumbling fingers, but at least it was quiet now. But his heart still hammered wildly in his chest.

It was finally starting to hit, all those years he'd missed and would never get back. There was so much he'd wanted to do. Go to the prom, graduate high school, go to college. And Broadway. He'd wanted to go to Broadway so badly, not get stuck making fabulous dresses while locked away in some twisted love nest.

It wasn't fair. He'd lost a whole life due to one man-and he still thought of Karofsky at night, wanting and needing something he knew was wrong.

Kurt picked a jar off the vanity table and threw it at the mirror, which cracked into splintery pieces-

-and then he was sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed, staring at the wreck his room had become and panting for breath. He turned and grasped the covers tightly in his fists so that he could bury his face in the thick, heavy material as he began to cry.

x

Both Burt and Finn were hovering at the basement door when the sound of something breaking came from downstairs. When Finn started forward, Burt grabbed his arm. Kurt needed to work through this on his own. If he had to take it out on his belonging, then so be it.

"Let him get it out of his system."

"What if he hurts himself?" Finn said.

Burt cracked the door open and peeked down. Kurt was rampaging around the room like a tornado, throwing things around. His mirror was broken and some of the posters on his wall torn but it didn't look as if he were doing any actual harm to himself. Burt closed the door softly.

The doorbell rang, causing them both to jump.

"What now?" Burt sighed.

"Man, I forgot." Finn headed for the door. "Blaine said he was coming over tonight."

Burt took another look downstairs. His heart twisted to see Kurt on the floor with his face buried into his blankets, his shoulders shaking with muffled sobs.

x

Kurt stilled when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Kurt?"

At Blaine's voice, he huddled closer to the bed. He had to look awful, he'd been crying so hard. Ew. He'd cried hard enough to get snot on his covers.

"What are you doing here, Blaine?"

"I thought I'd come see how you're doing. I knew it would be hard for you, coming here again."

"It is."

Blaine sat on the floor Indian-style and rested his elbows on his knees. "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

Kurt hiccupped and turned his head slightly, so that his red rimmed eyes were visible. "It's not fair," he mumbled.

The expression on Blaine's face was kind and patient. It was a lot like the expression he used to wear when they first met.

"I didn't get to anything I wanted to." Kurt knew he sounded like a petulant child, but figured he could forgive himself this once, considering all that had happened in his life so far.

"Such as?"

"I didn't get to graduate-I'm a high school dropout!"

"You can get a GED, you know."

"I wanted to sing on a stage in New York."

"You can still sing."

"Not like I used to. And-and-I wanted to go to prom."

Blaine's mouth twitched. "We went to an all-boys school, Kurt."

Kurt shot up. "We had plans, Blaine!"

Blaine looked up, thinking. "Oh, yeah..."

Santana was going to invite Blaine as her date to the McKinley prom and Brittany was going to invite Kurt and when they got into the dance switch partners, so that Kurt could get his prom night, just like he'd always wanted. The four of them had planned it out over the summer, before...before Karofsky happened.

"Well," Blaine said, getting up and picking Kurt's iPod off the floor. "We could still dance."

"Oh, no. The last time we got close did not end well."

Blaine held out his hand. "Something fast, then. We don't have to touch."

Kurt took the warm hand in his own and let himself be pulled up. He pulled away quickly, though, afraid of the tingling feeling creeping up his arm at the contact.

He took his iPod from Blaine and placed it on the docking station set into his stereo. After a moment's deliberation, he choice a Katy Perry song. Barring that one song, she was a harmless choice. Kurt felt a little foolish bopping around like he was, but Blaine just smiled at him. He still danced like he was in the Warblers, with calculated dance steps and over-exaggerated faces. He beamed when Kurt giggled at one of his moves, amused at the response.

Kurt clapped when Single Ladies came on. The dance routine was still locked into his brain after all these years and he went through the steps confidently, not even thinking about what he was doing. Blaine blinked away tears as he watched. It was like the boy he used to know had come back to him, even if just for a little bit.

After the song ended, Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand. "Now you."

"Wha-Kurt, I don't how-"

"Oh, come on. It's easy."

Kurt walked his through the steps as the song played on repeat. Blaine couldn't help but giggle when he heard '...and slap the butt', which earned him a glare from his new dance instructor, but soon enough they were both moving around the room together, steps in unison. Kurt sang under his breath, barely audible over Beyonce vocals blasting around them, but Blaine could hear him.

Burt opened the door every now and then to check on them and on one dance turn, he and Blaine's eyes met. Burt smiled at him before closing the door again.

Eventually they both collapsed face up on the bed, panting and sweating and out of breath. It was so suggestive that Blaine had to bite down laughter.

"What?" Kurt asked, looking at him curiously.

"I never thought I could dance like that."

"Everyone can," Kurt said. He lifted his chin. "I gave you perfectly good instructions."

"You did, you did." Blaine looked over at him and smiled, which is when an awkwardness settled over them. He turned his face away and cleared his throat. "You still can, you know. Do all those things. Well, not the prom, but graduating high school and singing on Broadway. You could do that."

"I can't even leave the house without worrying about having a panic attack."

Blaine reached over and took Kurt's hand in his. "Well, what else did you want to do? "

Kurt hesitated. "Fashion. I wanted to make beautiful clothes."

Blaine sat up, staring at him. "Kurt. I've seen that dress you made."

"Yeah, but...no one wants to wear that."

"Of course they would. It's gorgeous. Any woman would die to wear that."

Kurt eyed him skeptically. "Really?"

"I swear on my Vogue subscription."

Burt suddenly opened the door and leaned into the rooms. "Boys, we've got dinner started. Come on up and have a seat at the table."

At a roll of thunder, Kurt paused on the stairs. The sound had brought a brief, unwanted memory to the front of his mind and he tried to bury it before it surfaced. If he was going to start remembering things, it was not going to be here.

"You okay?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah." Kurt nodded and squared his shoulders. "I'm fine."

The table was set when the two of them sat down for dinner. Kurt wrinkled his nose at the casserole set before him.

"Now, I know this isn't your favorite stuff," Burt said. "Me and Finn never did find our way around kitchen like you did. But you're going to eat every bite. No hiding food this time, okay?"

Kurt nodded and picked up his fork. He could do this. He _could._

At the sound of rain hitting the roof top, Kurt closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead.

Blaine squeezed his knee and leaned forward to whisper, "You sure you're okay?"

"No, I...I'm not. I'm really not."

Kurt let them fuss over him without complaint. The rain was making his head pound. His father gave him aspirin, while Finn set up the TV to play one of the musicals Kurt had brought, and Blaine sat beside him, rubbing his fingers into his scalp. Kurt sighed and leaned into them.

A flash of pain ripped through his head and he jerked away, clamping a hand to his head and staring at Blaine with hurt eyes.

"What's wrong?" Blaine looked back at him so innocently. Had he really just tried to yank Kurt's hair out?

"You-you-" Kurt stuttered. His head didn't hurt anymore, if it had at all to begin with. Just another memory, then. He sighed and leaned back against the armrest. "Nothing."

Blaine moved when Burt brought a blanket up from downstairs and draped it over Kurt, but sat back down beside him when he was tucked into it.

"Come here," he said, when he caught Kurt staring at him.

After a moment of internal debate, Kurt sat up and switched positions, so that his head was in Blaine's lap. Those fingers were once more on his scalp, rubbing soothing circles into his hair. The moment was so domestic and lovely that Kurt was afraid he'd ruin it by having another flashback in the middle of such a nice moment, but soon his eyes were drifting shut and he couldn't keep himself from yawning widely.

"It's okay, Kurt," Blaine whispered above him.

With a heavy sigh, Kurt finally let go and drifted away into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
